


when the lights are cutting out

by chahakyn



Category: The Vast of Night (2019)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon, Science Fiction, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27363847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chahakyn/pseuds/chahakyn
Summary: “Queen of Cayuga,” Everett calls her with a grin, teeth flashing under the lamplight just for her. Her grip tightens around the microphone, heart fluttering with excitement and a touch of something else.Queen of Cayuga. She likes thata lot.-Everett Sloan and Fay Crocker. Before, during, and after the night that changes their lives.
Relationships: Fay Crocker/Everett Sloan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21





	when the lights are cutting out

**Author's Note:**

> watched this movie as a halloween treat and i was blown AWAY! absolutely adored everything about it, def check it out if you get the chance!
> 
> fic title from [ Armistice ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rvRVJ1oqKi0&list=OLAK5uy_llE7VisUicLCzQeQOGImB3nPf1073XVLc&index=10) by Phoenix

Fay Crocker wants to do something with her life. Something big and grand, not something normal like operating switchboards for the rest of her life. The whole town already knows her. But that’s not enough. She wants to get out of there, do something extraordinary that will make her shine.

Except the problem is that she’s shy sometimes, too nervous to make the first move, that big leap of faith.

So, she does exactly what you’d expect someone like her to do. She talks to Everett Sloan.

\---

Alright, to be fair, that’s not what she’d normally do. But she trusts Everett. He’s not the nicest guy around but he’s smart and he’s good and she knows he’s going to tell it to her straight.

\---

“You wanna get into radio?”

“Yes, I wanna get into radio,” Fay repeats.

Everett gives her look, sharp even through his thick-rimmed glasses. Everything about Everett is sharp, the line of his jaw, the neat slide of his hair. He’s always wearing cardigans or sweaters that soften his look, but it’s never enough to hide that you could cut yourself on him if you aren’t too careful.

Though, that’s a lie. Anyone can cut themselves on Everett Sloan, even if they’re careful. That’s part of his draw, she supposes.

“Fay Crocker,” he drawls, a cigarette clamped between his teeth, “you have a lot of work to do before you can make it in radio.”

Fay nods, ducking her head. It stings, but he’s telling it to her straight. That’s what wanted, right?

“Do you have a recorder?”

Fay glances up. Everett’s expression hasn’t changed, but his voice is softer now. Barely so, but enough that it tastes like the hint of an apology. Everett isn’t the kind to apologize. But this is a start.

\---

“What can I do to prepare?” Fay asks, tapping her fingers idly against the bleacher seats as she tries to make her voice carry over the noise blanketing the gym. “I don’t have enough money for the Westinghouse just yet.”

“Think about what you wanna do, how you wanna say it,” Everett says, leaning back against the bleacher seats, watching the game. She can tell he isn’t really watching the players though, eyes trained carefully on the announcers’ table. Almost like he doesn’t trust Benny to keep the tapes running right.

“Like…why I want to do radio?”

Everett waves his hand impatiently. “No. How you gonna tell ‘em? How you wanna make ‘em feel?” He brings up his fingers, snapping them sharply in her face. “Radio ain’t negative perspiration, sister. You never know what people are gonna say or how they’re gonna say it, and your whole job is to make it good. Frame it in a way where people wanna hear it.”

“Like how your voice changes when you’re on air,” Fay says slowly, smiling as Everett gives her an approving nod.

“Yes,” he says, voice dipping smoothly into the familiar tone she’s used to only ever hearing muffled with static as he announces song titles and weather updates. “Exactly like that.”

\---

“How did _you_ get into radio?”

Everett glances down, giving her a look. “Really, Fay?”

It’s a nice breezy day for once, and she’s caught Everett in a good enough mood to let her hang in the grassy patch out behind the WOTW. She’s pushing his good mood, but it’ll be worth it. He can be harsh, but the time she spends with Everett is _always_ worth it.

“You told me to practice how I want to say things. So, I’m practicing,” she says easily, glancing up at him. Everett rolls his eyes.

“You’re not practicing, you’re just prying.”

Fay stands up, brushing grass off her skirt before she thrusts her fist into Everett’s face like an imaginary microphone.

“Folks, we have a guest here with us at the studio today, Mr. Everett Sloan.” She tries to pitch her voice lower, make it smooth and sure like Everett does when he reads off the record titles late at night. She steps closer, close enough that she doesn’t have to raise her voice much. “Quite a character you are, from what we’ve heard around Cayuga. So, tell us, Mr. Sloan, how’d you get into radio?”

Fay watches curiously as Everett inhales, the tips of his ears flushing pink and _oh_ , that’s something she’s never seen before.

“That’s not bad.” Everett clears his throat, peering down at her. “That’s the kind of energy you want to have while recording.”

Fay beams, shaking her fist slightly. “Thanks. So, how did you get in?”

“I—I was told I had the voice. Mr. Katz needed cover one night, so he gave me a ring and ended up hiring me.”

Fay wrinkles her nose, fist uncurling.

“That’s it? You’re always saying that when you do radio, you gotta say something buzzin’. That wasn’t buzzin’.”

“Ah, well, ain’t that a bite. But it was the truth.” Everett rubs the back of his neck, turning away to fish in his pocket for a cigarette. Fay steps away as he lights it, giving him some space.

“Part of radio is learning when to push. And when to quit.” Everett takes a drag before holding it out Fay. She takes it, inhaling deeply as Everett regards her thoughtfully. “If someone’s being a wet rag, drop ‘em.”

“Well, _you_ stop being a wet rag and maybe I’ll get enough practice to be good at radio someday,” Fay says, handing the cigarette back to Everett with a pout. He laughs at that, patting her shoulder.

“You’ve got the spark, Fay. I think you’ll be just fine.”

\---

Everett eases into the idea of Fay doing radio fairly well. Well enough that Fay decides to ask—

“Let me sit in on a night of H.H.”

“Aren’t you on duty then?” Everett fixes her with a look that reads too much like the one Winnie gives her when Fay’s trying to get the night off. All authority and no fun. Fay leans forward, giving him a conspiratorial grin that she hopes will sway him. Everett may be older than her, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t be nudged to break the rules every once in a while.

“I can get Ruth to cover me for a night. Just one night. Please?”

\---

It’s surreal, sitting in the WOTW station with Everett. The office is dimly lit like the switchboard office, but there’s something different about that soft lighting now. The hazy glow it casts over the records, the microphone, the rim of Everett’s glasses and his clever fingers as he expertly flicks switches and changes tracks. It makes it all feel like a dream.

“You got any Johnnie Ray in there?” Fay hums, head pillowed on her arms as she looks up at Everett through a haze of smoke. He leans back in his chair, glancing up at the ceiling as he thinks.

“A few, I think. Why, you wanna hear some?”

“If you have it, yeah I do.”

“I don’t know,” he says, tapping his fingers against the desk as he leans forward, settling the chair legs back squarely on the ground. “Highway Hits isn’t in the habit of doing requests—”

“Get bent,” Fay snorts, sticking her tongue out. “Sarah said she dropped a call in the other day, and you played Gabe Gunton for her when she asked.”

“Well, maybe I do requests for girls who ask nicely over the phone, hm?”

Fay rolls her eyes, extracting her hand from under her head. She extends her thumb and pinky, maintaining eye contact with Everett as she holds her hand up to her ear. Everett tilts his head, the corner of his lip ticking up as he mirrors her movements, leaning his chair back on its hind legs.

“This is Everett “the Maverick” Sloan, WOTW radio,” he says, voice dipping into his familiar broadcasting timbre.

“Mr. Sloan, how are you doin’?”

“Just fine, Miss…?” Everett raises a brow.

“Crocker,” Fay hums. “Fay Crocker.”

“Miss Crocker? Well I’ll be. What can I do for you this evening?”

Fay sticks her tongue out at him again as she sees him smirk.

“I’d like to request some Johnnie Ray, if you have any with you.”

“I think we can dig something up,” he says, glancing at the switches before turning to thumb through the records. “Any specific song you’d like? We’ve got a few.”

“Oh no, Mr. Sloan, I’ll leave the song up to you.”

“Will do, Miss Crocker. Enjoy the song and have a lovely night,” Everett says with a smile, pulling a record out of its cover and smoothly switching it out, pulling the microphone closer as he does so. Fay closes her eyes, leaning back down against her arms as she lets Everett’s low voice wash over her, warming her down to her toes.

_And that was “Crazy Waves” from The Golden Glows. Up next, at the request of a special little lady tonight, we have for you “Cry” by Johnnie Ray. It’s 32 minutes past the house here at WOTW Radio. Stick around for more of your favorites._

\---

“See you around with Everett a lot,” Gretchen says casually, pencil twirling between her fingers.

Fay doesn’t look up from her homework, marking something down in her notebook. “And?”

“And nothing.”

Fay hums absentmindedly, chewing on the end of the pencil.

“Are you two…?” Gretchen says eagerly, clearly not having let the topic go. Fay looks up sharply.

“No.” There’s nothing going on between them. Though, there are times where she catches his gaze lingering on her, times when his eyes twinkle as he listens to her ramble about whatever new invention the Science Digest is touting. Times when he leans over, slipping her the latest of town news that she’d somehow missed—because what else can you do in a small town but gossip— and times where he silently passes her his cigarette when there’s just nothing to talk about, fingers brushing against hers gently. He must…

No. She’s just imagining it all.

“Of course not.”

\---

Fay finally has enough money for the Westinghouse. _Finally._

She wants to play with it so badly, but it doesn’t feel right to try it without Everett there for her. So, she waits. He teases her mercilessly for it, but she can tell he’s pleased she waited.

“Queen of Cayuga,” Everett calls her with a grin, teeth flashing under the lamplight just for her. Her grip tightens around the microphone, heart fluttering with excitement and a touch of something else.

Queen of Cayuga. She likes that _a lot_.

\---

The unfamiliar static hum in her ears sets Fay’s teeth on edge. She doesn’t understand what it is. It’s not doing anything nefarious. And yet, it _scares_ her.

She readjusts her headphones before dialing numbers again. And again. And again. But nobody has answers. And all the while, that staticky humming sits there innocently, waiting. Watching.

Fay connects the sound to Everett over the switchboard and breathes a sigh of relief when he hears it.

_I’ll be_ , he mutters, and she can see him in her mind’s eye, cigarette in one hand and the fingers of his other tapping the top of his lip in thought.

“Why? Is it bad?”

_That’s a good question._ There’s a familiar hint of amusement in his voice, the kind that comes with ideas that are reckless and probably not good for either of them.

_Send it to me again and I’ll put it on air._

“Won’t we get in trouble?” Fay breathes, heart racing.

_I don’t care. It’s good radio._

And he’s right, it’s _damn_ good radio.

\---

“I don’t mean that in a way to get your feelings hurt,” Everett says, jaw tight and eyes glued to the road as they speed down the streets. Fay crosses her arms over her chest, just a tiny bit annoyed.

“You won’t hurt my feelings,” Fay manages to grumble.

“Okay good, ‘cause I hurt girls’ feelings a lot.”

At that, Fay freezes. Everett’s…never been that upfront before. Not without coercion.

“Maybe don’t be a jerk all the time, probably won’t hurt—"

“Really?” he hisses, whipping around to give her a glare, and Fay nearly winces. But she doesn’t, holding firm as she returns his gaze.

“Am I wrong?” She asks, challenging enough that he lets out an unsteady exhale.

“You still hang around me,” he says, turning back to look at the road. She can see his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel.

“You’re lucky I got thick skin,” Fay huffs with a wave of her hand, slouching into the seat. _And that I like you a little more than I should_ , she adds in her mind.

\---

Fay’s head is spinning, Maddy’s weight in her arms the only thing grounding her as she runs. She doesn’t understand what’s going _on_. She wants so badly for there to be answers to the never-ending questions that have plagued this entire night. But there’s nothing here.

She feels Everett kneels behind her as she collapses to the ground, gripping Maddy to her chest as she sobs.

“I’m right here, Fay,” he murmurs, hands resting hesitantly on her shoulders. “I’m right here.”

His presence isn’t as comforting as she’d like it to be. Is this what it’s like to be helpless? No security, no support? What she wouldn’t give to know what’s going on, what’s trying to invade their town, their own little universe.

And then she sees the shape in the sky, and everything she’s never dreamed of slots into place. Oh. _Oh_.

\---

They keep running. They run and run and run and they don’t stop until they’re back at the switchboard office, collapsing on the floor in a heap.

Fay hears Everett let out a breathless laugh, his hand clutching hers tighter. They’re both full of adrenaline, leftover energy buzzing beneath their fingertips from their escape. They escaped. They’re _alive_.

She can hear that energy in Everett’s voice, no longer careful and controlled like she’s used to hearing.

“We’re alive,” he breathes, full of relief and glee, and Fay feels him press a brief kiss to the top of her head. She looks up, eyes wide.

“Nobody will ever believe us,” she pants, holding Maddy closer to herself. Fay can feel her hands shaking uncontrollably.

“They may not,” Everett says, pulling her Westinghouse recorder out from where she’d tucked it in the corner an hour or two ago (has it really only been that long? How can so much happen in so little time?), “but that doesn’t mean it won’t be a good story.”

He presses a few buttons, taking a shaky inhale of a cigarette and making sure to direct the smoke away from Maddy.

“It’s spinning, Cayuga Queen,” Everett says, pulling Fay out of her thoughts. He’s gazing at her, a fond look in his eyes and he holds the microphone out to her. “Let’s bake some biscuits, yeah?”

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [ tumblr](https://shizuoi.tumblr.com/) if you want to talk more!


End file.
